


Star Crossed

by KyloTrashForever



Series: Oneshots [26]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Light Angst, Lightsaber Battles, POV Alternating, Porn with Feelings, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Vanity Fair Photoshoot Inspiration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-10 00:12:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18927382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyloTrashForever/pseuds/KyloTrashForever
Summary: “Why is the force connecting us?”It means something different now, when he asks— and he isn’t sure she can even hear him now. Not over the torrent of rain that falls around them or the burning of blades that stand between them.“I think I have to destroy you.” It’s barely a whisper, but Kylo hears it. Hefeelsit. Through their bond, in the air— in his verybones.He doesn’t have to answer— he knows she will hear it. Knows that she will feel it too.I think you already have.Inspired by the Vanity Fair article.





	Star Crossed

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, remember when Vanity Fair posted a photo of our babies titled “Star Crossed”? Pepperidge Farm remembers— and so does my ridiculous ass. This immediately popped up into my head and well, here we are.

* * *

 

_Why is the force connecting us?_

It seems so long ago that he’d asked her.

He remembers the disorientation— both of her being so near and simply just _her—_ the way he’d expected to feel anger and feeling something else entirely leaving him an addled mess of emotion.

_Emotion is weakness._

And he _feels_ weak as of late.

For no longer are they connected but _collided—_ torn from their both of their own surroundings and thrust together time and time again on strange worlds he has yet to ascertain the meaning of. He is weary with wondering as to why that is.

The ghost of his old master whispers that he cling to his anger, to his _hate—_  but he finds it so trying now to do so. It isn’t hate that he feels when he looks at her now, but _something._ Something larger than himself. Larger than both of them.

He hardly knows anymore what his place in all this is.

The crackling energy of their sabers rage between them— and in her eyes he sees the anger he should still possess. It glows brighter than the icy blue that clashes with his red and in it he sees the betrayal. He sees the hope he’d snuffed out when he’d denied her the vision she’d clung to when she’d hurled herself across space and time only to reach him.

He wonders if that future is lost now.

He wonders why he can’t stop wondering about it.

“Why is the force connecting us?”

It means something different now, when he asks— and he isn’t sure she can even hear him now. Not over the torrent of rain that falls around them or the burning of blades that stand between them.

But her brow furrows— and the anger gives way to something else— something that mirrors better his own heart.

“I think I have to destroy you.” It’s barely a whisper, but Kylo hears it. He _feels_ it. Through their bond, in the air— in his very _bones._

He doesn’t have to answer— he knows she will hear it. Knows that she will feel it too.

_I think you already have._

* * *

_I know everything I need to know about you._

She’d believed that once.

When faced with what she’d believed to be her greatest enemy, Rey had seen all of the darkness that was promised. She’d _felt_ it even.

She couldn’t have known that beneath the permeating shadow of everything that is Kylo Ren— that is everything he stood for— there resided some sliver of light.

So small and hopeless— like the rays of sunlight that strain to reach the darkest depths of the ocean— but _there._

She remembers how even through the thick cloud of darkness— she’d felt its light as if brushing her fingertips against the tiny spark of warmth that still lived there. So deep and _hidden_ but _there._

How it had broken her to see it stamped out before her very eyes— not with a curse but with pleading eyes and an outstretched hand as he ground out the hope she’d dared to harbor for him.

She wishes to forget, but the Force has touched the pair of them— has claimed them for its own— and it is wont to let them go.

The plain is green this time— sunlight streaming down from above as the landscape is awash in color. He looks so out of place here— with his dark robes and his pale skin.

When they are dropped here she ignites her blade— feeling its energy humming though her as it has so many times now— and she waits for him to strike. For him to ignite his own saber.

Surely he must know how this must end.

But he doesn’t. Not at first.

In fact if she is being truthful with herself— he is hardly the first to strike. Not for a very long time now. It only makes her angry.

She doesn’t want this doubt that he incites and this _hope_ that he destroyed with his own hands.

She only wants it to end.

“You know what we have to do,” she tells him roughly— as she has so many times before.

There is a nod— slight but _there—_ but in his eyes there is something that terrifies her. Something like regret.

_I know everything there is to know about you._

She wonders if that’s true anymore.

* * *

_You can’t stop needing them— it’s your greatest weakness._

He’d meant it then. Even felt as if he’d been _helping_ her.

For it had been his attachments that had nearly torn him apart. To his family. To his past. To _all_ of it.

He’d believed that if he could snuff them out— if he could cast them aside— he could finally know peace.

He’d almost succeeded.

Then came her.

She is everything good and _pure_ in this world— everything he isn’t. He knows with his hands he would stain her. He knows that if he were to touch her skin she might wither and that light that shines out of her might darken and fade.

He thinks maybe this is why he’s held back.

If he could build a new Empire— if he could tear it all down and build a new world maybe this new existence would be one where he _deserved_ her. Be a place where his sins couldn’t touch them— where he could _finally_ know peace.

But there is still that look in her eyes — the one from the forest. When she called him a monster. The only thing that’s changed is how much he wishes now that it wasn’t so. That things were different.

And he was right— it is his greatest weakness. Yet somehow it almost feels as if it is his greatest strength, too.

Her breath is still heavy under the deep violet of this strange desert sky where they find themselves this time— her saber raised high as she waits. Waits for him to strike. For the pair of them to clash blades until this strange connection that continues to carry them over a sea of stars to find each other like this decides it is done with them.

He doesn’t think he can anymore.

When he drops his saber to the ground she is confused at first, but she can _feel_ it. He knows the lines of her face better than even his own now and the subtle change there reads to him like a map he’s charted himself.

The intent is clear— the message _deafening._

But then there is that violent humming as the air around them seems to tremble and he closes his eyes so as not to watch her fade again. It’s painful every time she snaps back to her own place and her own time. It’s too reminiscent of the Falcon doors  closing to take her away. Too reminiscent of the day when he thinks he lost her.

So he shuts his eyes.

When he opens them— it is to his own quarters and a new resolve.

* * *

_I’ve never felt so alone._

She remembers the desolation more than anything.

The feeling that amidst a billion stars she was insignificant. That everything she’d done and everything she _would do_ might amount to nothing.

Somewhere shining out through the darkness is that feeling that he’d understood.

She remembers an outstretched hand.

He comes to her now on a plain of fire. Everywhere around them is heat and darkness— and amidst the flames he is here _again_ with an outstretched hand.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

She clutches her blade a little tighter. “There is nothing else for us. The Force demands balance, Ben— and this is the only way.”

“We can make our own way.”

“By destroying the galaxy? Rebuilding it the way _you_ believe it should be?”

He shakes his head. “The _right_ way— we can find it together.”

“I don’t— I don’t trust you.” She hears the way her voice trembles. She knows Ben will never change. “There is no light left in you.”

Fire and smoke collide all around them— but she’s only looking at him. Seeing the way his eyes fill with some emotion she can’t place. Almost like— regret. Something she knows he isn’t capable of.

His eyes flick to her hands— reaching out with a swiftness she can’t guard against as his fingers enclose around the wrist that clutches her saber. He tugs it to his chest— pressing the now-quiet end there to press it to his heart.

“Then end it.”

She feels ice in her belly even as an inferno blazes around them. “What?”

“I told you once to let the past die— to _kill_ it, if you have to.” His grip at her wrist tightens. “If that is what I am— if the Force demands balance— you have to _take_ it. Because I won’t do it anymore.” His eyes burn brighter than all the flames that crackle in the air. “Don’t you understand? I _can’t_.”

She feels the sweat at her brow and fire in her lungs and everything is _burning_ here but she _sees_ it now— that spark of light she’d thought was lost but it _cannot be_ and she knows now that hope is _foolish._

Moments pass between them like the stretch of the stars themselves and his grip on hers is _so tight_ and his face is so _haunted_ but his eyes linger on her mouth now and she should do it— she knows she should—

But he’s leaning— and the fire still burns around and _inside them_ and she could— she could just let him—

Then it’s gone.

The fiery planet— him— _all of it._

As Rey sinks into the chair near her bed she thinks to herself that it is now— _right now—_ that she has _truly_ never felt more alone.

* * *

_You’re not alone._

The first time he’d felt the true depth of her loneliness— it had touched something inside him he’d long since locked away. Called to a part of him that he’d thought he’d buried.

The urge to take that from her had exceeded reason.

He still feels it— even now.

He finds her under a blanket of stars— stars they’ve crossed what feels like a thousand times now— always circling around one another only to find themselves right back here. Right back to each other.

He wonders if that was the point all along.

As he approaches he can’t help but feel as if he knows this place. Something like memory prickling at his mind— but whose he can’t be sure.

She’s nestled in the high grass— her face to the sky and so _calm_ now. He feels none of the urgency or the anger that’s resided in her in times past.

She doesn’t stir as he comes to sit beside her— resting close enough that he could reach out and touch her— but holding back. Their last encounter still plays in repentance— the way she’d hesitated.

The way she hadn’t pulled away.

“I know this place,” she whispers.

He remains silent— so afraid that a word from him will rouse her from this spell she’s under. That she’ll remember she wants to destroy him.

“I saw you once,” she continues. “I saw us _both. Here._ Hand in hand in the sunlight. It was so strong and so _clear_. I thought that was our future.” She tilts her head slightly then— just enough that her eyes can pass over his face thoughtfully. “You saw it too.”

He flicks his eyes to the grass, frowning. “Not quite.”

“But you saw something. Something that convinced you that I would be the one to turn.”

He laughs then— a bitter sound. “I saw _you_ , Rey. Just you. Standing with me.”

“Why would that make you think—?”

“Because you wouldn’t want me otherwise.” Her brows raise and her mouth parts— and he heaves out a sigh. “How could you? Being good like you are. I am not good, Rey. I never have been.”

He can see her from the corner of his eye— turning her face back to the stars. “No. I suppose you aren’t.”

He feels some heavy weight on his chest— stealing his air because she’s _right_ and she should just _end_ it because wouldn’t that be easier than—

“I loved you anyway,” she murmurs— and it is a flood of warmth in an otherwise cold existence and it settles _deep_ in his chest as all the air rushes back into his lungs.

His voice is breathless— mirroring the awe that lives inside him. “ _Why?”_

She closes her eyes. “Because I felt in you that same loneliness I’ve lived with my entire life— and I knew you _truly_ felt what it was like to be so alone.” Her voice grows  just a little softer. “Because you made me feel like I _wasn’t_.”

The urge to touch her is _tortuous—_ like a current under his skin and she is _right_ there and would she let him—

When his hand covers hers— just a light brush of his fingers against hers— she doesn’t move to pull away.

“You’re _not_ alone,” he reminds her. Because he’s here. He’s _right_ here.

She turns up her face to meet his gaze— and as her eyes bore into his as if searching— he can feel the words before she says them.

* * *

_Neither are you._

It feels like a lifetime ago— when she’d whispered those words over the fire. Their hands had touched then too. When she’d seen that flash of a future that she now wonders if it even exists. If it ever even did.

She still feels that fear inside her. That fear that keeps her from feeling hope.

_Hope is like the sun._

She wonders if perhaps Leia had thought of her son when she’d uttered those words.

“Do you still dream of a new order?”

He shakes his head as he stares up at the sky. “I think you know what I dream about.”

“Tell me.”

“You.”

It’s all he says. All he has to say really.

“I won’t abandon my cause. It’s the right one.”

“Maybe it is.”

“Do you mean that?”

He blows out a breath. “I don’t actually know. But sometimes I feel it. That pull to the light. I always thought it was something to bury. Something that pulled me from my true purpose.” She feels his fingers squeeze against hers lightly. “But maybe it was just you.”

“I still see it sometimes,” she sighs. 

“Do you think it’s lost? That day— in the sun. Is there any future for us that doesn’t end in tragedy?”

“I used to think so.”

She hears his breath catch. “And now?”

“Maybe—” She closes her eyes against the stars and allows for the first time in too long for the sparks of hope to flicker inside her. “—maybe we _can_ make our own way.”

Maybe everything was always going to end here.

Maybe she’s just tired of fighting.

Her eyes are still closed but she _feels_ him— _arms caging her in, blotting out the night sky, eyes searching and breath warm and so close—_ and she wonders then if this will be the moment when they fade back to their own corners of the universe. If this will be the moment when their moment ends.

But it doesn’t.

Neither do they.

* * *

Since she stormed into his life, he’s been nothing more than a network of memories. Fragments of moments that he clings to. Little spots of light that peer through his darkness, and every one of them comes from her.

But there is no need for memories in this moment.

In this moment he’s making a new one.

He’s imagined what her mouth might feel like— so many times that there have been moments when he could almost _feel_ it— as if she were actually there with him.

But she _is_ here now. And he _can_ feel it. And it’s _so much better_ than he could have imagined.

She’s so careful at first, or maybe he is— neither of them sure how much time they have— how much they can take from each other.

He wants everything. Everything she can give him. Everything he can take.

With every second that passes, he fears that _this_ will be the one that she comes to her senses. When her kisses stop and her fingers leave his hair and he needs _everything_ before that happens.

He expects her to stop this.

He expects her to push him _away_.

He knows she probably _should,_ and if he were a good man, a _better_ man— he would put an end to it himself. But he has never been good— and it is only with her that he feels _better._

So he doesn’t protest when she tugs at his tunic or his pants and he doesn’t hesitate to divest her of her own and when there is nothing— when it is just _them—_ he allows himself to revel in her. To drink her in. To make a _memory._

He presses his mouth to her eyes and her throat and her breasts and he never ceases his efforts to taste every inch of her. To feel her on his lips and tongue so that he might never forget just _what she feels like._

He finds her skin _doesn’t_ darken when he touches her— instead flushing _pink_ in the moonlight— and when he finally, _finally_ pulls her close to settle between her thighs—

He finds her eyes are like _stars_ in the way they shine.

* * *

She can’t seem to get close enough to him.

She’s kept this part of her locked away for so long— spent so many days not daring to _hope—_ and now that she’s here and he’s _here—_ she fears the moment it ends. She fears the moment she has to go back to somewhere else— _anywhere_ else that he isn’t.

He looks at her as if asking a question— with his chest pressed to hers and his cock _right there_ and she nods before she pulls him to her. Before she finds his mouth.

Then there is only the pleasant burn and the _slow stretch_ and he’s filling her— _completing her, even—_ giving her everything she’d dared not hope for but laid awake wishing she could.

She sees flashes of the moments— all the tiny moments that have led to this and how much _different_ it all feels and maybe this is the balance the Force demanded. As it thrust them across the stars to collide through space and time.

Perhaps the answer has always been just them.

She holds him close as he moves inside her— as her breath catches and his expels in a groan. He presses words into her skin— nonsensical and _wonderful_ but it doesn’t matter because she can _feel them._

The stars over their heads seem to burn hotter— shine brighter— and she wonders if it is their own doing. If it really _is_ just them.

Ben pulls her tighter— moves _faster—_ and she feels a crescendo of _something_ inside that threatens to tear her apart and put her back together.

When it tips over the edge— when the white-hot pleasure spills over the brim to fill her as her eyes shut and her toes curl— Rey sees stars of a different kind. When he begins to shudder— Rey knows he sees them too.

He holds her close after, and she can feel the way he fears the end of this too. His lips never cease the way they brush along her skin— memorizing every inch of her against his mouth, and she is content to let him do so.

“Tell me where you are,” he murmurs eventually.

She nuzzles a little closer into his chest. “Are you going to storm across the galaxy to find me?”

“Yes.”

She smiles against his skin. “And what will you do when you find me?”

“Never let you out of my sight again.”

“I’m very, _very_ far away.”

He is quiet for a moment— and then his lips find her hair to press there as he breathes deep. “There was a time when you crossed the stars for me, Rey.” His hand trails between them to tilt her chin then, and his lips brush over her mouth softly. “You’ll find now that I would cross a thousand stars for you.”

She believes him.

She is _counting_ on it.

The Force keeps them there for far longer than times past— the pair of them lingering in each other’s arms until the sun peers over the horizon to bleed an array of fuschia and violet into the morning sky.

As the light washes over the meadow in which they lay— Rey takes Ben’s hand just as she knew she always would.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kylotrashforever)!  
> I made a [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/KTF_Reylo), come follow me!


End file.
